Night had succeeded to day, and that day had been an uneasy one; for
during the hours of light that remained after the parliamentary
militia had taken possession of Langley Hall, Lady Margaret had in
vain endeavoured to find some opportunity of opening one of the
several doors which led into the private rooms and passages of the
house. Wherever she went she found one or other of the soldiers on the
watch, and she became alarmed lest the want of necessary food should,
in the earl's weakened state, prove detrimental to his health.
Miss Walton said nothing; but her beautiful eyes were so full of
anxious thought, that whenever they turned upon her aunt, the good old
lady felt her heart ache for the painful apprehensions which she knew
were in her fair niece's bosom; and as the shades of evening fell, she
rang for her servant William, and asked him several questions in a low
tone. What his answers were, neither Annie Walton nor Arrah Neil could
hear for some time; but at length, in reply to some injunction of his
mistress, he said aloud, "I will try, my lady; but I do not think it
will do. He is a sad, sober man, and when they were eating, shortly
after they came, he would drink little or nothing."
"Well, give him my message," said Lady Margaret, "and if he will not
drink, we must find another means. Warn all the tenants, William,
to-morrow early, that they may be wanted; but now go, and see the wine
be the best in the cellar."
The man retired, but in a few minutes after he opened the door again,
announcing Captain Hargood, and the commander of the small force left
at the Hall made his appearance with a ceremonious bow.
"Madam," he said, "I hope you do not put yourself to inconvenience or
restraint to ask a stranger to your table who is here against your
will, and in some degree against his own."
"Not in the least, Captain Hargood," answered Lady Margaret; "I always
have loved and esteemed brave men, whatever be their party; and
though, in all that is justifiable, I would never scruple to oppose to
the death an enemy, yet where we are not antagonists I would always
wish to show courtesy and forget enmity."
"I hope, madam, you will not consider me as an enemy," replied the
officer.
"Whoever keeps forcible possession of my fortress," said the old lady,
with a smile, "must be so for the time; but let us not speak of
unpleasant things--supper must be served," and advancing
unembarrassed, she rested her hand upon the arm of her unwelcome
guest, and led the way with him to the hall.
But the stout Roundhead was not one to lose his active watchfulness by
indulging in the pleasures of the table. The wine was excellent, and
the servants were always ready to fill for him; but he drank
sparingly, and Lady Margaret did not venture to press him, lest her
purpose should become apparent, and lead to suspicions beyond.
After partaking lightly of the wine, she rose, and with her two fair
companions retired, leaving him with the potent beverage still on the
board, in the hope that he might indulge more freely when he was
alone. As soon as they were in the withdrawing-room, she explained to
Annie Walton and Arrah Neil, in low but earnest tones, the exact
position of the room in which was the entrance to the secret passage
which she had opened for Lord Beverley, and the means of making him
hear and withdraw the bolt.
"I will send up a basket of food and wine to your chamber, Annie," she
said; "and as soon as all seems quiet in the house, you and our dear
Arrah go, by the moonlight if you can, to that place, and try to gain
admission. If you should fail, or if you should find any one on the
watch, come down to me. They have so scattered their men about, that
it is well-nigh hopeless before they go to sleep. It would almost seem
that they knew whereabouts the doors lie. There is one means, indeed,
and that must be taken if all others fail; yet I would fain shrink
from it."
"What means is that, dear aunt?" asked Annie Walton.
But the old lady replied that it mattered not; and shortly after they
separated, and the two fair girls retired to their chamber. Miss
Walton's maids were there ready to aid her in undressing; and though
Annie and her friend had much to say to each other, all private
conversation was stayed for the time. Shortly after Lady Margaret's
chief woman appeared with a covered basket, set it down, and retired
without saying a word; and in a few minutes more Annie sent her
maidens to bed, saying that she would sit up for a while, and adding,
"Leave me a lamp on that table."
But, now that they had the opportunity of speaking more freely, Arrah
Neil and her noble friend could but poorly take advantage of it, so
eager were they to watch for the diminution of all sounds in the hall.
They did speak, indeed, words of kindly comfort and support; and
manifold dreamy reasonings took place on all the events of the day,
and their probable consequences; but still they interrupted their
speech continually to listen, till all at length seemed profoundly
still, and Arrah whispered--
"Now I think we may go."
"Yet but a moment or two, dear Arrah," replied Miss Walton. "Let them
be sound asleep."
In deep silence they remained for about a quarter of an hour, but then
Annie herself rose and proposed to go.
"I am grown such a coward, Arrah," she said, "that I would fain
perform this task speedily, and fain escape it too."
"'Tis the desire to do it," answered her fair companion, "that creates
the fear of failing. But let me go, Annie, if you dread it so much."
"Nay, nay! No hand but mine, for worlds!" exclaimed the young lady.
"But come, I am ready; let us go."
Slowly and quietly opening the door, they issued forth into the
passages, and, remembering as well as they could Lady Margaret's
direction, were making their way towards the room to which she had led
the earl, when suddenly, out of a neighbouring chamber, walked the
officer of militia, and stood confronting them in the midst of the
passage. Annie Walton trembled, and caught poor Arrah's arm to stop
her; but her fair companion was more self-possessed, and whispering,
"Come on; show no fear!" she advanced straight towards the officer,
saying aloud--
"Will you have the kindness, sir, to accompany us to the door of Lady
Margaret's chamber? We are afraid of meeting some of your men, who
might be uncivil."
"Do you not think that Lady Margaret may be asleep by this time?"
asked the officer, with a doubtful smile.
"Oh, dear, no!" replied Annie Walton, who had gained courage from her
fair companion's presence of mind. "She never goes to bed till one or
two. Perhaps we may even find her in the withdrawing-room."
"I think not," said the officer; "but we can easily see." And thus
speaking, he led the way down, having made himself thoroughly
acquainted with the ordinary passages of the house.
The door of the usual sitting-room was ajar, a light was within, and
the officer put in his head. Instantly perceiving Lady Margaret
Langley seated reading, and recollecting her threatened vengeance if
any one of his band approached her apartments, he said, "I have
escorted these two young ladies hither, madam, as they were afraid to
come alone."
"I thank you, sir," replied the old lady, laying down the book. "Down,
Basto! down! Come hither, Annie. Close the door, my sweet Arrah. I
thank you, sir. Good night. They are foolish, frightened girls; but I
will see them back when we have done our evening duties."
The perfect tranquillity of the old lady's manner removed the
suspicion which Captain Hargood had certainly entertained; and closing
the door, he retired to the room he had chosen for himself.
As soon as he was gone, Lady Margaret said, in a low tone, "So you
were stopped, I suppose, by that rascal?"
"Yes, indeed," replied Annie Walton: "we had scarce taken twenty paces
when he met us, and I was fool enough to lose all judgment; but this
dear girl saved us both."
"Well," rejoined Lady Margaret, "there is but one means, then. I am
weak, girls--very weak--or I would not have kept the good earl so long
in darkness and in hunger for my own foolish thoughts. Come with me;"
and, opening the door which led from the right-hand side of the
withdrawing-room to her own chamber, she went in, closing it again
when they had both passed, and fastening it with a bolt. She then
paused for a moment in the midst, gazing down upon the floor with a
look of deep sadness, and then approached a large closet, which she
opened. It was full of shelves; but, putting her hand upon one of
them, Lady Margaret drew it forth, laid it down beside her, and pushed
hard against the one below. It instantly receded with the whole back
of the closet, showing the entrance to a room beyond.
"See, but say nothing," whispered the old lady; and while Annie Walton
followed with the lamp, she entered before them.
It was a small room, fitted up somewhat like a chapel, but hung with
tapestry. At the farther end was a table or altar, covered with a
linen cloth yellow with age, and having beneath what Annie Walton
imagined to be the chalice and plate of the communion. Above, however,
hung the picture of a very young woman, whose sweet and radiant look,
yet tender and mournful eyes, might well have accorded with a
representation of the Blessed Virgin; but the figure was dressed in
the fashion of no very remote time; and as soon as Lady Margaret
raised her eyes to it, the tears rose in them, and tottering to one of
the large crimson chairs that were ranged along the side, she sank
into it and bent her head in silence.
Annie Walton and Arrah Neil stood and gazed upon the picture as if
they were both fascinated, but neither spoke; and at length Lady
Margaret rose again, saying abruptly, "I am a fool, and will be so no
more. This is the chamber of retribution, my sweet Arrah," she
continued, approaching the two fair girls, and taking the lamp out of
the hand of Miss Walton. "Here for many a year I and one now gone wept
and prayed for forgiveness;" and, holding up the lamp towards the
picture, she gazed at it with a mournful look. Then, laying her hand
upon the edge of the cloth which covered the table, she seemed about
to withdraw it, but paused, and her face became almost livid with
emotion. "I will do it!" she said at length; "I will do it--but say
nothing--ask no question--utter not a word!"
As she spoke, she cast back the cloth; and lying on the table, which
was covered with crimson velvet, appeared a pale and gory human head,
severed at the neck. The face was turned up, the eyes were closed,
the mouth was partly open, and the fine white teeth were shown.
Though pale as ashes, the traces of great beauty remained in the
finely-chiselled features: the curling lip, covered with the dark
moustache; the wide, expansive brow, the high forehead, the blue tinge
of the eyes shining through the dark-fringed lids--all showed that in
life it must have been the face of as handsome a man as ever had been
seen, but over all was the grey shade of death.
Annie Walton started back in terror; but Lady Margaret turned to her
sternly and sadly, saying, "Foolish girl! it is but wax. For you it
has none of those memories that give it life for me. There--you have
seen enough!" and she drew the cloth back again over that sad memento.
Then, gazing for a moment again at the picture, the old lady set the
lamp down upon the table; and casting her arms round the fair neck of
Arrah Neil, she leaned her eyes upon her shoulder and wept bitterly.
Annie Walton would not intrude upon her aunt's grief, either by asking
any questions or by calling to her remembrance the situation of the
Earl of Beverley, although, as soon as the first impression of the
extraordinary spectacle which had been presented to her had passed
away, the state in which her lover had been so long kept naturally
occurred to her mind. But Lady Margaret, herself a woman of strong and
vigorous character, though somewhat eccentric in her habits of
thought, soon roused herself, and starting up she wiped the tears from
her eyes, exclaiming, "This is not all folly, my child; but yet any
grief, if it prevent us from doing our duty, is a weakness and a
wrong. Come, we will soon find the earl."
Miss Walton took up the basket; and Lady Margaret, with the light,
approached a door on the other side of the room which led to a narrow
and very steep staircase; but Arrah Neil paused till the light was
nearly gone, to gaze at the picture, and when she at length followed,
her eyes too were running over with bright drops. A long passage at
the top of the stairs conducted them to a door, which Lady Margaret
gently opened, exposing a room within, furnished with a chair, a bed,
and a small table, by which the earl was sitting, his head resting on
his hand.
As may readily be supposed, he was well pleased to see his visiters;
for long solitude in darkness and uncertainty, without occupation,
will have a depressing effect upon the firmest heart and best
regulated mind. The cause of their long absence was soon explained;
and, the acceptable stores which they brought being taken from the
basket and deposited on the table, though Annie Walton would fain have
remained some time to console her lover in his imprisonment, he too
strongly felt the danger of her so doing to permit it; and, only
petitioning that when any one returned some books might be added to
his store, to while away the hours of solitude, he saw them depart,
though not without a sigh. No interruption took place on the return of
the two young ladies to their room, and the night passed over without
any other event deserving of notice.